It's twenty
four years on and twenty four years gone,
Since
December six, eighty-eight,
And
his final song had echoed out
Within
his homeland Texas State.
The
voice that passed away that day,
Was
more than desperate and sad -
He'd
never sing alive again
And
that, my friends, was all so bad.
Yet in
our minds, our hearts, our homes,
Melodies
linger on and long,
Down
the volume, he'll still be heard
So
high above his mourning song.
A man
whose life was full of grief,
His
wife hit by a killer truck
Claudette
died on her motorbike.
Then
another tragedy struck.
Two
sons died in the burning flames -
Gone
were Tony and Roy DeWayne -
At his
Hendersonville homestead.
Just
how could he survive the pain?
Deathly
anguish and bitter thoughts,
Replaced
with professional calm
He
rose again above his grief,
His
loyal fans were in his palm.
Each
song he sung, a masterpiece
The
Texan sang so beautiful,
Etched
on the world's eternal disc
Voice
unquavering, powerful.
Listen
to his ballad "Claudette",
His
"Crying" and his "Blue Bayou".
Then
"It's Too Soon to Know" and yet
If
"Only the Lonely" weren't true.
"In
Dreams" of his "Pretty Woman",
Was he
"Running Scared" from "The Crowd"
Way
down to his "Sleepy Hollow"
To
write and sing, vibrant, aloud.
Record,
perform, on stage his act,
Immense
applause that will not end.
As the
world pays great homage to
"'Roy
Orbison"' - Texan legend
